


words ain't good enough (i can't explain your love)

by tworoseghosts



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Mutual Pining, Scrabble, a bit but it's not like that deep, harry plays scrabble, i really don't know how to tag this, puns?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 13:18:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10991736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tworoseghosts/pseuds/tworoseghosts
Summary: "I've been playing Scrabble competitively for five years." Only after having spoke does Harry realise that in no universe would this be considered impressive to any potential suitors, especially ones who had been personally carved by the angels.Where Harry is the most committed member of his university's Scrabble Club but still doesn't know how to form his words, and Louis doesn't even like Scrabble (but he likes Harry a lot).





	words ain't good enough (i can't explain your love)

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fic in ages so constructive criticism is welcome but please don't be too mean? 
> 
>  also, credits to @pinkflouis on twitter for the inspiration for this!!
> 
> **find me on twitter @tworoseghosts!!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is soooo short but please dont let that put you off I'll try to make the others longer! I'd appreciate comments of course, thank you for reading!!

"And the worst thing is," Harry mumbles, his features tormented as he buries his face in his hands, "I don't even really know if he's real. Imagine being so deprived of romance that you actually dreamt your ideal man into reality. God." A beat of silence washes over the room. For the last half an hour Harry has been making side comments about the mystery lad, with each confession displaying an increasing amount of desperation. For the most part, Liam has been quiet on the matter, hence why Harry almost falls off of his bed when he is met with an answer. "Sorry. What was that?" He requests, adopting a serious tone which leads to Liam releasing a more than exaggerated sigh. 

"I said that I think this is all a bit much." Funnily enough, this swiftly prompts Harry to abandon the sincerity in his expression as he mutters out an agitated response. Liam can tell from the way that the other boy's words bleed into one another that he's made a mistake in not being sympathetic in his response, so he decides to put Harry out of his misery. "He doesn't even play scrabble," he says, hoping that Harry will get what he means.

This time Harry does fall off of his bed, but only in his rush to interrogate Liam. "You _know_ him?" Liam raises his eyebrows.

"Who, Louis? Yeah. I mean, of bloody course, he's my roommate." Harry doesn't even feel his mouth loosen into a soft 'o' shape, mirroring the horror that he has been feeling all evening.

"That is _not_ ," he insists, "roommate Louis."

The thing is, Harry has heard _a lot_ from Liam about roommate Louis. How he supposedly invented humour and how he has the best voice, how he never shuts up during films and how he practically hung the stars in his sleep. So, naturally, this discovery dampens Harry's mood even further.

"Yep," Liam smirks, "definitely roommate Louis. Guess who told him about Scrabble Club?" 

Harry pauses, and decides that spending the entire night moping about is definitely a valid option. "Why haven't I met him yet?"

Liam shrugs nonchalantly, arguing that "you've only just got here, mate. I'll formally introduce you if you want." Harry shakes his head, his genuine disappointment translating very clearly into his body language. 

=~=

A week later, Harry rubs his palms across his jeans and plants his eyes securely on the tainted carpet floor just beneath the table in front of him. "So, erm," he stutters, "don't be too upset if you lose." Harry doesn't even mean to make it sound rude, he's just so utterly uncomfortable that he's apparently lost his ability to articulate properly.  
"Oh, yeah?" Louis laughs, and Harry is so engaged by the brightness of his eyes that it creates the illusion that the two are entirely carefree. "Do enlighten us then. What makes you so superior?" The noise that follows can only be described as somewhere between a bark and a quack. Harry's hands reach his face in record time, though his skin is already painted pink when they reach it. Louis raises his eyebrows; he doesn't say anything though, just lets the creases of his mouth settle into a playful smile. Harry hadn't expected Louis to come back to Scrabble Club, purely for the reason that it is just that, a Scrabble Club (a _university_ Scrabble Club no less), so he hadn't been expecting this. 

"I've been playing Scrabble competitively for five years." Only after having spoke does Harry realise that in no universe would this be considered impressive to any potential suitors, especially ones who had been personally carved by the angels. Attending a Scrabble Club is bad enough, let alone actually being proud of it. Louis scrunches his face and dips his head slightly. 

"Is that a real thing?" He asks, his voice mounded into a mocking whisper. Harry can feel his heart in his throat.

"Shut up." Harry tries, fully acknowledging just how meek and defeated he sounds. A grin writes its way across Louis' face just as Harry insists that they start the game: Louis nods, and for that, at least, Harry is thankful. 

Despite being awful at Scrabble, Louis remains focused throughout the entire game, huffing every time Harry scores a high point, shaking his head dramatically when Harry claims the last triple word tile and scolding Harry for laughing. Harry, soon enough, determines that it is impossible to _not_ be endeared Louis to some degree. "You're probably the worst scrabble player I've ever come across."

After a moment of thinking, Louis looks up. "Respect your elders," he suggests, mock disapproval seeping into his body language. The younger boy settles into a laugh, propping his chin up with his hand. He tilts his head to see the word that Louis has spent so long forming.

"No." 

"It's a word." Harry smiles smugly at that, reaching for the Scrabble dictionary on the floor beside them.

"No," he lifts a finger, voice laced with an agonisingly patronising undertone, "it's not."

His fingers brush against the worn pages in a hurry to prove Louis wrong: in fact, Harry is so immersed in his search that he _almost_ fails to hear the ringing in his ear.  
"But it's your defining character trait!" Pleads the voice. Harry turns his entire body to get a full view of Louis, who is giggling into the seams of his hoodie. 

Harry hears the sound of the heavy pages against the floor before he realised that he's dropped the dictionary. "I'm not a dick."  
Louis is still laughing when he pokes Harry's cheek, provoking an involuntary blush.

"Alright then," he winks, before clutching his chest in some sort of borderline violent gesture. "What happened to freedom of expression? Equality?" Louis fakes a sniff and Harry's cheeks grow a deeper shade of red to accompany his eye roll.

"Fine," Harry grumbles, not caving in to his desire to laugh. "Have your dick if you're that desparate." Louis' blush almost measures up to Harry's after that comment. Harry wins the game, to absolutely no one's surprise. 

=~=

Harry had been anticipating not seeing Louis for at least another week, so when two bodies push their way through the door, waking up the dormant room with the energy that Harry is lacking, he has no idea what to do.

"Harold!" Louis shouts, his eyes a perfect image of happiness. "Fancy seeing you here!" Harry casts a _look_ to Liam, who meets his gaze pointedly. Right.

"Harry, Louis. Louis, Harry," he sighs, almost as if the entire meeting is entirely chance and hasn't been orchestrated by himself. Harry could probably cry. Louis is wearing a black T-Shirt and jeans, so he shouldn't even look as good as he does, but somehow the way the material is draped across Louis' frame perfectly highlights the fact that he is, as Harry had imagined, quite almost ethereal. 

Harry is about to emit some incoherent comment about how the two have already met when Louis beats him to it with an enthusiastic "Well, obviously." Which Harry rolls his eyes at. "Harold and I-"

"That's not my name," Harry interjects. Louis fixes him with the least intimidating glare Harry has ever seen.

"Harold and I are very close friends, actually." He confirms, curling into himself to preserve as much heat as he can as he sinks into the other side of Harry's bed. "Liam said we could hang out here." Harry does his absolute best to ignore Liam, who is retreating into the bathroom, turning to face Louis. 

"Can you show me your tattoos?" He asks, after a long and hard deliberation on exactly what conversation he should pursue. Surprisingly, Louis doesn't look the least bit unimpressed at Harry's question, and instead nods happily in response. 

Louis staggers his way through the memories, pausing to explain why he got each tattoo and to gracefully accept anything Harry has to say in regards to them. Harry's fingers only linger in the air for a second when they reach the quotation marks on the inside of Louis' wrist, so he's not entirely sure what he's doing when he begins to trace along the outline of the ink. He almost freezes up, until he realises that Louis doesn't seem to care; he leans into the touch, embracing it, almost. 

"That was one of my first ones," he explains, his voice suddenly soft but no less eager than it was before. Harry mumbles in agreement.

"I like that one," he mumbles. He can almost see the entanglement of their breath, whispers of their most vulnerable moment together. Louis shudders under Harry's fingertips, and Harry watches his hand melt away from Louis'.

"Not the other ones?" Louis laughs, only allowing the smile to spread to the corners of his mouth. "Harold, how could you?"

It's as if Harry had dreamt the moment of intimacy, and he strains trying to remember the feeling of the gentle contact. Soon enough, however, Liam reappears and the three of them are greeted by a giddy Niall. Liam seems more than thrilled to have the extra company, and three becomes four. Harry can hear the faint lull of the television in the background, but his eyes are still transfixed on Louis.


End file.
